French Kiss, This!

My first kiss. Why, my first kiss. All these years later, it is as clear as though it were yesterday. Some kiss, yes?

It was horrible. I had such expectations, such hopes, and my stomach was all in flutters. I assumed he knew. I was 15, he was 17, he was supposed to know!! I was a baby, I didn't know what to do. My lips parted slightly; I was barely breathing. I felt my body lean towards him. His head was bent and his eyes were on my mouth. It took my breath away...I had no idea that would happen. And, what was that feeling in the pit of my stomach?

Slowly he came towards me, tilting his head slightly, lining his lips up just right. Close. Closer. It was going to be delicious. I was so ready.

His lips touched mine, soft as a butterfly, and then....and then....something went completely wrong. Something hard, wet, and big was forced into my mouth, past my teeth and down my throat. HIS TONGUE. What was his big, fat, sloppy tongue doing in my throat??

I gagged. I forgot to tell you that part. I do have this easy gag reflex...well, what was I supposed to do? Say to my first date, "Uh, I'm good and all, and I know I'm really cute, but if you touch me with that tongue, I'll gag. Just so you know...." I had no idea people kissed like that....YUCK!! That wasn't a kiss, it was a choking hazard!!

How much worse could a first kiss get? Much worse. I felt tears behind my eyes and that fluttery feeling in my stomach was now cement. What if I threw up? Oh My God, I was going to throw up!!

"Bite him!" said the witch. Gathering strength, I was bearing down with my jaw and he must have sensed this was not going well. He tried to jerk his tongue out but I had already latched on. His tongue scraped against my teeth on the way out of that tunnel. I didn't draw blood, or I would have passed out, but he was in pain. O well!

"You, you, you bit me!!!" he screamed and jumped away. Suddenly, I was ulgy as chopped liver.

"Well, you pushed that big, fat, sloppy thing down my throat." Hey, I didn't know what I was saying, I'm telling you I was a baby.

"Well, thoo didn't haff tthoo bite me..." He was glaring at me and talking like a bee had just stung his precious, wet tongue...the jerk. He stole my first kiss ....my heart was breaking!!!

I had envisioned, DREAMED of sweet lips, a slight touch of the tip of the tongue, a moan and lips pressing softly against each other for about 10 seconds...breaking away, and repeating with only slightly more strength....a movie star, academy award kiss...but, NOOOOO!!

Instead, I got a gush of goo and a flood of spit. I turned away and gagged, hiding my face. Why I cared about his feelings I don't know...he was the jerk, I was the baby, it was all his fault.

"Haven't thooo ever been FRENTHCH THKISSED??" he was stuttering. Maybe I really had bitten him. Scarred for life? One could only hope.

"Sure," I sniffed the air, raising my chin. "But they didn't try to choke me to death!!!"

French kiss? What the hell was a "French Kiss?" I thought. I was going to have to ask my dad about that, silently betting he wouldn't know anything about it either. Maybe mom would.

"Hmmph, I'm going in. The French Don't Have Any Idea About Kissing! You should try it the American way,"  Of course, what that was, I did not know. I snorted at him, still gagging at the mere memory of the "tongue-in-mouth." We were sitting in Richard's car in front of my house. Yeah, I've thought many times how appropriate that his name was Dick. We had seen some movie earlier, the name of which I will never remember as the Kiss From Hell completely erased my entire past.

I ran like the wind up the sidewalk and bolted into the house, slamming the door on a mad dash to the bathroom. As I looked up from rinsing and re-rinsing my mouth a zillion times, I found my dad leaning against the door frame with his arms folded. I think his mouth was twitching.

I know his eyes were twinkling. "It's not funny, Daddy!! He stuck his tongue in my mouth, down my throat and he did it on purpose!!!" I gagged again.

Dad, making every effort to remain stoic, said carefully and wisely "I see."

A man of few words.

"Well, I showed him!! I bit him!!"

That did it, Dad lost it and fell to the floor, rolling over onto his side, knees bent in a fetal position. I didn't know what position that was then, but having given birth, I now recognize it.

He was shaking and it was only when I bent over him, thinking that the French Kiss story had been fatal to someone other than myself, I discovered he was laughing. Hard. Losing his breath, dying laughing.

I pushed against his shoulder and stood up, stomping my foot, though fighting back my own giggles. I was not to be laughed at. However, not then, never before, nor since, could anyone watch my dad laugh and not join in. His laughter was magical, and hard earned. Once it started, it was just as hard to stop it; the mere glance or mutual exchange of memory would start it again days later. Infectious. Dangerous, if you liked breathing regularly.

"Ok, I give up! But Dad, I had no idea what kind of kiss it was going to be and never ever did I think he'd stick that horrible, sloppy tongue in my mouth...." and the gags began again, as I leaned over the sink, breathless but not for the dreamed about reasons.

Mom was coming down the hall, wondering what all the commotion was about, and since she couldn't see, she had no idea Dad was on the floor. He sat up and said "Our daughter just received her first kiss and she is not pleased."

Mom began to chuckle and said "well, I guess we don't have to worry about her and the boys too much..."

"Mom, what is a French Kiss? Why do they call it that? Richard acted like he was 'oh so smart and knew all about it' and I don't think he did it right, 'cuz I hated it..." I willed the gags away. "My first kiss...." my voice broke, and Dad chuckled louder. "Sorry, hon...sorry..." he muttered, looking away.

My eyes took in the family scene. Dad on the floor, arms resting on his knees, like a frog, and Mom sinking down next to him. I dropped down to their level, and wondered if all families were this nuts. Did every 15 year old girl feel this bad about a french kiss? Or was I doomed to never liking kisses? I couldn't think of a single girl friend I could tell this to.

Somehow, the gag reflex calmed down, I slept, and Richard never called again. Go figure.

I hope he found someone with a Grand Canyon mouth, but as for me....I discovered there were a few guys, only a few...who could quickly read all my laser beam signals that silently yelled "NO sloppy tongues allowed..."

Oh, the search for the midas tongue began...

next chapter.